My last post was about competing in the workplace.
Last night, I had dinner with my friend, S, and we talked about the dating marketplace.
S, an attractive man in his 60s, grew up poor. In the middle of his life, he made six figures. He felt rich. He wore expensive suits. And he noticed that when he entered a room in an expensive suit, every woman wanted to talk to him.
"Your access to women goes way up when you have money," he said, his eyes lit up. Years ago, he gave up the well-paying job and now earns just enough as a musician. "But I still have the suit," he says, with a rueful smile.
We also spoke about a friend who lives with a wealthy man. Our friend is remarkable. She is standup-comedy funny, Wall Street smart, with the empathy and listening skills to rival a $300 an hour New York City psychotherapist. If you put a dollar value on her traits, she deserves to be expensive, and her partner recognizes that value. He lavishes both love and money on her.
She does not look like Halle Berry. She is the happy girl next door, with straight hair, flat shoes and no makeup.
When I ask how she met her partner, she says, "It's a miracle."
The truth is that he saw her perform improvisational comedy and was charmed.